John Chandler - Part One

 I find it interesting that this year, the year my father died, is also the year that two major immigrant brick walls have come down in my family history research.  One of those walls has revealed John Chandler, the youngest person at the time of his arrival to ever land at Jamestown.  The timing was dramatic; if he had been on an earlier fleet, he may have had to endure The Starving Time, which ended with the arrival of Lord DeLaWarr's fleet in 1610, on which John was a passenger.  The evidence linking this particular John Chandler to my family was established earlier this year, following genetic testing and research...more details of that later.  Some months ago I began putting together John Chandler's story, and typed up the sketch below to give context to his arrival:

                     The situation at Jamestown, Virginia on June 10, 1610, the day that                            John Chandler  (age 9) arrived on board the Hercules, the third ship in Thomas West, Lord DeLaWarr’s fleet

At the end of the previous summer (October 4), an injured John Smith returned to England.  Conditions in Jamestown quickly deteriorated. Relations with the natives quickly went from a fragile truce to an open campaign by Chief Powhatan to starve out the colonists.  Since previously, colonists had relied on trade with the natives for the bulk of their food supply, this spelled huge trouble with the coming winter.  The colonists had neglected their fishnets, which rotted in the water.  Hunting was extremely dangerous, since natives attempted to kill anyone who left the fort.

The expected fleet from England had suffered damage from a hurricane that summer, with the flagship becoming stranded in Bermuda, with a bulk of the supplies and food. One ship returned to England, and the seven other ships landed at Jamestown, delivering 200-300 men, women, and children and few supplies.  Although a fleet returned to England to warn of the settlers’ predicament, no further supply ships arrived that year, or the following spring.

The Starving Time followed, and that winter, 88% of the approximately 500 colonists died.  All of the fort’s animals were eaten, many houses and parts of the palisade were burned for firewood, and some even resorted to cannibalism to survive. 

The Bermuda contingent, including the recently widowed John Rolfe, arrived in May of 1610 to find 60 sick and starving colonists confined to the safety of the blockhouse, with the rest of the fort deteriorated around them.  It was decided to abandon the colony and on June 7, 1610, everyone boarded the ships and began to sail down the James River. 

At approximately 10 miles downriver from Jamestown, they were met by a fleet of supply ships led by Thomas West, Lord DeLaWarr, that had left England on April 1.  The newly appointed Governor West headed the group back to Jamestown.  On the third ship in this fleet, the Hercules, the youngest passenger was John Chandler.  He was also the youngest person to date to have been sent/brought to Jamestown.

*Governor Percy had sent Capt. Francis West on a trading mission to the Potomac.  After trading for corn, West and his men on the Swallow began to return to Jamestown, and at Ratcliffe’s fort at the mouth of the James learned that the colony was in dire need and had resorted to cannibalism.  Instead of proceeding with due speed, they headed to sea and consumed the corn themselves on a return trip to England.

Although he was very young, John Chandler wasn't traveling with relatives.  It is not known if he had any connection to anyone else on the fleet, or why he was aboard.  Just a few weeks later, another boy would arrive:  Thomas Willoughby, age 10, whose uncle was an investor in the Virginia Company.  It is a safe bet that the two boys, as the only children in the colony, became friends.  In any case, by 1624, John Chandler was living as an employee at Thomas Willoughby's military encampment at Elizabeth City.  John Chandler's fortunes were just about to change.  (to be continued)

The Howard County Tragedy

September 19, 2013:  It was a slow day at work. Working in a library, sometimes things get very quiet; but when workflow is at a low ebb, it’s easy to indulge in the pursuit of idle curiosities. I had been doing some research, for fun, on the first people to live in my current house back in the 1930s, and decided to look up a Kent County News story of an incident concerning the builder’s father. I was following a trail whose steps I no longer remember, gathering facts that seem trivial now, which gave my mind some mild entertainment in the form of eavesdropping on the past. I found the article I was looking for, detailing an incident of the builder’s father as a teenager, getting into a fistfight with a former teacher on the street in Still Pond, back in the spring of 1883. Typical Kent County stuff, maybe. I dropped a dime into the machine and printed out the page, as my eyes scanned the other headlines on the page. “The strawberry season is not far off.” “The Sale of Bellevue.” And then: “A Madman’s Tragic Act. Killing His Intimate Friend.” Interesting. I read on: “Mr. Charles R. White, of Howard Co., was shot and instantly killed on Wednesday by Mr. Charles Edward Hanson, an intimate friend and neighbor.” Howard County, my home county on the western shore.

That's when I realized that I knew these people.....

Belmont was built in the 1730s, and was owned and lived in by Dorseys and their descendants, including the Hansons, for more than two hundred years.  In 1965, it ended its days as a privately owned estate, and began a second life as a small, exclusive conference center.  Whole families of high school-aged sisters and brothers in Elkridge, including mine, became part of the Belmont family, securing coveted jobs as waitresses and houseboys.  I spent nearly ten years working there, in several departments, from high school until several years after college, by which time I was sharing the position of Marketing Coordinator which a childhood friend and wife of the former executive chef.  People outside of our community knew little to nothing of the existence of this place, with the exception of the lucky groups who came to stay, a large proportion of them connected with Federal and local governments, including foreign dignitaries and even sometimes people important enough to require Secret Service detail.  Belmont’s isolation was one of its chief marketing points.

When you first came to work at Belmont, you were scrupulously trained by the senior generation of staff members in how to deliver the highest quality of service. These were the motherly women from town who cooked breakfast and lunch every day; the executive chefs, always from “elsewhere,” who always had very special and entertaining personalities; the gruff, businesslike housekeepers, tending to be past middle age and firmly rooted in the community; and the grounds and maintenance men who seemed to know everything…. and did, since they lived in houses right on the property.  Precision, perfection, discretion, and courtesy, doing things “the Belmont way” were required in all aspects of food and beverage service and housekeeping.

Fortunately, it was not only an interesting place to work, but a companionable place, with colleagues feeling like family members and, after a while, the house feeling like home. Very soon after you completed your first shift, as you relaxed in the staff room after dinner with your coworkers, you began to hear the stories, legends, and rumors about the house, and the people who had lived and visited there.

As new employees in the 1980s, my friends and I all heard about the Dorseys during those staff room storytelling sessions: the original builders, landowners, and entrepreneurs who founded this estate and many others, becoming one of the most powerful families in the state.  Caleb Dorsey, the builder, was fashionably superstitious, and had installed 6-paneled witches cross doors throughout the home to keep out evil.  He met his wife Priscilla while fox hunting in the area, and their initials are still carved in stone beside the front door.

Another Priscilla Dorsey, their granddaughter, eloped with Alexander Contee Hanson, a congressman and later a senator who was nearly killed in a Baltimore riot at the beginning of the war of 1812. It was after his untimely death from his lasting injuries in 1819 that the estate fell upon hard times.

If you were to consult local history sources or books containing descriptions of colonial homes in the region, you would notice that in most histories of Belmont, the years between 1819 and 1913 are barely mentioned.  Or, they may be condensed into one or two lines:  “Hanson’s son Grosvenor enjoyed gambling, and the estate was nearly lost.  Two of Grosvenor’s nine children, Nannie and Florence, still lived in the house in 1913."

Yet, every member of the Hanson family--- Priscilla and the Senator, their son Grosvenor and his wife Annie Maria, the latters’ nine children who had lived to adulthood, as well as four more children who died in infancy, or young--- is buried in the old cemetery at the edge of the woods beyond the formal gardens, surrounded by a wrought-iron fence.

The rumors and tales told in the staff room of this part of the house’s history were darker, and began to intersect with the countless stories of employees and guests who claim to have experienced strange events and even seen uncanny things while staying or working at the house.

The two old Hanson ladies who remained in the house at the turn of the 20^th century used the ballroom to store their enormous stock of canned fruits and vegetables. During the same period, a grimy painting was discovered, blocking a drafty fireplace on the second floor.  This painting turned out to be an original Gilbert Stuart portrait of George Washington, and is now part of the Frick Collection.

It was rumored that the family who lived in the house had a son who was either crazy, monstrous, or had severe developmental disabilities, and that he was often locked in the room in the cellar where the extra chairs are kept.  This is in the same area of the basement where two employees from the phone company were servicing the telephone connections in the early 1990s, when they suddenly left without completing the job, telling the manager on duty that they wouldn’t be returning. There was something “very wrong” down there, and it didn’t involve the phone lines.  None of Belmont’s employees liked going into the basement, which was built of local stone and multichambered, running the length of the five sections of the house.

We were told that somebody was once shot on the front porch because he had borrowed his cousin’s horse without permission.  This is the same area of the house that is featured in Belmont’s “official” ghost story, published in several places, of a phantom coach which drives up the circular drive and stops at the front door, horses stamping, while an invisible person stomps up the porch steps, enters the house, and marches toward the kitchen wing.  I’ve never met a person who has experienced this “official” phenomenon (although a friend of a friend's mother claims to have heard it, once.)

Instead, kitchen employees are plagued by trays of glasses that smash while safely stored in glass-fronted cupboards, carefully counted silverware and plates which disappear and reappear in a few minutes’ time, mysteriously exploding wine containers, and other frustrating events which seem to escalate when especially important guests are in residence.  Objects have even been seen flying across the dining room by employees working alone (me), with both doors to the room closed.

A woman wearing white has been seen, usually appearing as a real, solid woman clad in Victorian clothing, in a particular bedroom by more than one guest, or sitting quietly in the corner of an adjoining bedroom by an employee who was checking the rooms one evening before the arrival of an important group.  She may be the same person whose misty, white-clad form was seen on several occasions standing at a small bridge over a nearby stream in the early morning hours.

September 26, 2013, a week after my discovery in the Kent County News:  I don’t remember if this was a slow day at work, but I do know that I took the time to contact several of my Belmont friends, with whom I’ve never lost touch.  I couldn’t wait to tell them that by pure chance, I had stumbled upon an incredible story that filled in many of the lost details of the scraps of history we had heard about the “troubled” years of our former workplace.  After finding the article about the May 1883 murder in the Kent County News, I consulted the Baltimore Sun from the same time period, where I found a series of articles describing, in true Victorian fashion, full details of the murder, inquest, funeral of the deceased, testimonies of both families, and Ned Hanson’s trial.  Along with census records of the decades leading up to and following the murder, these articles helped me piece together a strange, sad story of this family who had lived at the heart of our community a hundred years before any of us had been born, in the very house that, in retrospect, had played a huge part in our coming of age, early adulthoods, and for some of us, even in the formation of our own families.  What’s more, the story oddly lined up, in certain places, with some of the strange, unexplained phenomena for which the house had become known.

The following headlines are taken directly from The Baltimore Sun (microfilm, collection of Clifton M. Miller Library at Washington College, Chestertown, Maryland.)  Below each headline, I have summarized the contents of the accompanying article.  Portions in italics are directly quoted from the newspaper.

(The Sun, May 17, 1883; Vol. XCIII Issue 1 Page 1, Published in Baltimore, Maryland.)

A MADMAN'S TRAGIC ACT.

KILLING HIS INTIMATE FRIEND.

REVOLVER AND KNIFE BOTH EMPLOYED.

_____________________________________

     Some of the Hanson siblings. Photo taken in 1884 in front of the house.  From a photo at       Belmont Manor and Historic Park.

At a little before noon on May 16, 1883, Charles Ridgely White of Elk Ridge, Maryland drove to Belmont to see Charles Edward "Ned" Hanson in order to get some seed corn.  With him in his carriage were a young girl and a female visitor to his house, a Miss Worthington from Washington.  Mr. White was the owner of a farm named "Argyle", a mile above Ilchester, but is said to have lived at the time at his home "Tutbury", which is now located off of Elibank Road, but at the time had an entrance off of Lawyers Hill Road, before I-95 separated the two neighborhoods.  The newspaper noted that White and Hanson lived on adjacent properties, and that their families had been great friends for a long time.

At the time, several Hanson siblings, all adults, were living at Belmont.  They included Priscilla Hanson, age 37; Charles Edward Hanson, age 35; Grosvenor Hanson, age 27; Annie Hanson, age 25; and Florence Hanson, age 23.  Three other brothers lived and did business in Baltimore. They were the grandchildren of Alexander Contee Hanson, the Congressman and newspaperman famous for his involvement with and near death at the hands of an angry mob during the Baltimore Riots, who died a U.S. Senator. Their father, Charles Grosvenor Hanson, had died 3 years earlier.  He and his wife, Anna Maria Worthington, had a total of 12 children while living at Belmont, born between the years 1840 and 1864.  Four of these children died at age 21 or younger; two of these were twin girls who died in infancy.  Of the 8 remaining children, it looks like only one married, and he was widowed at an early age, with no children.

When Mr. White arrived at Belmont on May 16, only Priscilla and Annie were at home.  After waiting for about a half hour for Charles to return, Mr. White prepared to leave, saying that he would return another day to see him.  He was getting his horses ready to go when Mr. Hanson entered the house (presumably from a back or side door), asked one of his sisters who had come to call, and was told that it was Mr. White.  He then walked into the dining room (now the Foyer, where the big staircase is located, and the little 'telephone closet') and picked up a bread knife which was lying on the sideboard.  He walked calmly out the front door and when he was about 10 feet from Mr. White, he pulled out a revolver and fired three shots, all of which hit Mr. White in the head, one first passing through Mr. White's hand.  Death was probably instantaneous, but Mr. Hanson then threw himself upon the body and cut Mr. White's throat with the bread knife, partially severing the windpipe.  Both of his sisters witnessed this, as well as Mr. White's daughter and friend.  Mr. Hanson then walked calmly back into the house, into the kitchen (now the dining room), washed the blood from the knife, and returned it to the sideboard in the dining room (now foyer.)   He then went to his room and waited for his brothers John and Grosvenor to return from Baltimore.

When John and Grosvenor returned, Charles gave them a number of strange reasons for the shooting.  He said that when his mother was dying (10 years earlier), her last request had been that he should kill Charles White, because he had killed Mr. Hanson's sister (Mary, who had died of an illness at Belmont in 1863, when she was 21 and Charles was 15.)  Mr. Hanson had not been present at his mother's death.  He apparently spent part of the 1870s in California, and it may have been during this time that his mother died.  He also accused Mr. White of "flashing his eyes" to make himself look like Hanson.... a habit that Mr. Hanson had.

A jury of inquest was quickly assembled and met at Belmont at 4 p.m. the same day, where the family was assembled and to which Mr. White's body had been brought after the murder.  12 jurors were present, and two doctors, who made the postmortem examination on site, and testified that instantaneous death had been caused by the third shot, which entered the temple.  The postmortem wound to the throat would not necessarily have been fatal.  The Hanson sisters, several house servants, and two additional doctors testified that until this day, a very friendly relationship had existed between the two men, and that they often met to discuss farm operations.  The only cause that could be assigned for the act was Mr. Hanson's mental state.  One of Mr. Hanson's sisters had suffered attacks of insanity, and for some time leading up to this event, some of Mr. Hanson's behavior had made his family uneasy about his mental condition, although he was usually a good-natured person and had shown no signs that he might become violent.  One of the farm hands testified that he had acted strangely that morning, walking around singing wildly at the top of his voice.  The farmhand had remarked to his wife at home at dinnertime that Mr. Hanson was crazy.

At the conclusion of this investigation, the jury gave the verdict that on May 16, 1883, Charles R. White had died from a pistol wound inflicted by Charles E. Hanson, and that Charles E. Hanson was at the time insane.  Charles was given into the custody of one of his brothers who, along with two other men, took Charles to the jail in Ellicott City.  Before leaving, Charles wished everyone a good evening, and said that he would return later that evening after making an explanation for his actions.

~

(The Sun, May 18, 1883; Vol. XCIII Issue 2 Page 1, Published in Baltimore, Maryland.)

THE HOWARD COUNTY TRAGEDY.

Hanson's Talk and Appearance --- Much Sympathy Felt for the Family.

_____________________________________________________

'Mr. Charles Edward Hanson, who is confined in the jail at Ellicott City for the killing of Mr. Charles Ridgely White on Wednesday, said yesterday that he had acted in self defense.  The spirit of his sister had appeared before him, he said, and warned him to be on his guard, as Mr. White would shoot him on sight.  When he saw Mr. White he became convinced that the time had come for action.  Consequently he killed him.  When questioned on other subjects Mr. Hanson spoke clearly and quietly, but the moment the shooting was mentioned his eyes snapped and his talk was wild and disconnected.  He has a pleasant face and a kindly blue eye when in repose.  His quarters at the jail have been made comfortable with a new bed.  A neighboring hotel furnishes his meals.

'Messrs. Murray, Samuel, and Grosvenor Hanson, his brothers, and several other kinsmen and friends called to see him during the afternoon.  His brothers show unmistakable evidence of having suffered a great deal in consequence of the murder.  They say that Chas. Hanson had shown signs of a gradual mental derangement ever since he came back from California.  He thought at that time that three men were following him, and was frequently excited on account of his vagaries. Afterward he was sun struck, which increased his malady.  He was never known to be violent, however.  On the contrary, he was looked upon as a jolly good fellow, who was fond of listening to a funny joke, and could tell a capital story himself.  Occasionally, when politics was under discussion, he would become excited and it was at such times that suspicions were created as to his sanity.  Much sympathy is felt for the other brothers, who are thorough gentlemen.  Even the sons of Mr. White take this view of the unhappy affair.  Said one of them, "It was a great blow to us, but a far greater one to the Hanson boys.  I pity them sincerely, and shall shake hands with them in the future as heartily as we clasped hands in the past.  We think there is not the slightest doubt as to Charles Hanson being insane, but of course we cannot understand why his insanity took a turn so unexpected and terrible.  The two families have always been intimate.  Charles Hanson and my brother Stephenson here were such close friends that when Stephenson married, Hanson came home with him.  We were all friendly with him, and were fond of hearing him tell of his adventures in California.  Last Sunday Grosvenor Hanson came over to the house and was talking to father about corn planting.  It was on business resulting from this conversation that made father go over to Hanson's on Wednesday.  He was accompanied by Miss Worthington, who is visiting us, and by my little sister, both of whom were going to call on Miss Hanson.  What occurred at the Hanson place is already known.  My little sister says that she saw Hanson in the rear of father, but thought at first that he was a colored man going to attend to the horses.  She says that when the attack was made Hanson rushed forward raging like a wild beast."  The White family were all at the old residence yesterday, and the sons talked unreservedly about the occurrence, but without bitterness, and with frequent expressions of sympathy for the Hanson family.

'Messrs. John J. Donaldson and J. Upshur Dennis have been engaged as counsel for Hanson.  It is not unlikely an effort will be made to get him out of jail on a writ of habeas corpus.  If this is not done he will remain in prison until the grand jury moves in the matter.  The White family will leave the whole thing with the State.  If the writ is issued, however, they will try to prevent Hanson's release unless he is immediately put in an insane asylum and kept there, as they think it would be dangerous to let him go about free, especially since he is said to have threatened to kill them.

'The pistol with which Mr. White was shot is a five-barrelled revolver, marked "Red Jacket No. 3."  The knife is a large, sharp instrument used for cutting bread.  The funeral of Mr. White will take place shortly before noon today.'

~

(The Sun, May 19, 1883; Vol. XCIII Issue 3 Page 4, Published in Baltimore, Maryland.)

LOCAL MATTERS.

Funeral of Mr. Charles R. White.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Charles Ridgely White was buried on Friday, May 18, 1883 in St. John's Cemetery, Ellicott City, following a service held at the White home.  The Reverend Hall Harrison of the Protestant Episcopal Church officiated, and a large gathering of friends and family were at the house.  The trip to the cemetery "was a long, silent, and dusty drive, and would have been unendurable had not the fragrancy of the wild honeysuckle and the varying tints of the grass and trees given a refreshing yet quiet and beautiful charm to the scene."

Among the friends and acquaintances in attendance were the brothers of Charles Hanson.  Hanson's two sisters were unable to attend on account of being ill.

Following the service, the Hanson brothers visited Charles, who was not well, having been attended by a physician for cramps in the stomach.  He still spoke disjointedly about the shooting, but denied that he threatened to kill the White boys; in fact, he had expressed fear that they would want to kill him for what he had done to their father, but was misunderstood in the excitement at the house.

~

(The Sun, June 11, 1883; Vol. XCIII Issue 22 Page 4, Published in Baltimore, Maryland.)

CHARLES EDWARD HANSON.

Adjudged Insane by a Jury and Committed to an Asylum.

______________________________________________________________________

On May 30, 1883, upon the request of the Hanson brothers, Judge Miller at Ellicott City signed an order directing that a jury be summoned on June 9 to inquire into the mental condition of Charles Hanson.  When Charles was brought into the courtroom, he smiled and greeted his friends, shaking hands with several of them.

Charles' brother Murray testified to his long illness in 1871 from sunstroke, and said that during the illness, Charles became convinced that his attending physician had poisoned him.  At another time, he believed that two men were lying in wait for him in Baltimore with the intent of killing him, and he began carrying a pistol so that he could defend himself.  He went to California in 1875 and when he returned, he complained that some men had followed him back to Maryland so they could kill him.  His family became worried that he was losing his mind, but when a long period of time elapsed during which his hallucinations seemed to have left him, they began to feel relieved at his apparent recovery.  Murray told of several incidents which showed the imbalance of his brother's mind, including his uncharacteristic fits of temper when discussing matters of politics, and his belief that he was a Mason, which was based upon his belief that he could tell a man's intentions by looking into his eyes.

After this testimony and two others (one by a physician and one by the prisoner's sister, a witness to the murder,) Charles Hanson made his own statement, which lasted almost an hour and left observers without a doubt as to his mental condition. Two sons of Mr. White also testified to his insanity, noting that they had never considered him so prior to the shooting.  The testimony of several doctors followed.  The jury retired for only a few minutes, returning with the verdict that surprised nobody.

~

Charles Edward Hanson, in June 1883, was committed to the Maryland Hospital for the Insane, now Spring Grove, in Catonsville.  He remained there until his death in 1931 at the age of 83.

A few years later, sometime prior to 1900, his sister Priscilla was also committed to the Maryland Hospital for the Insane.  She remained there until her death in 1925 at the age of 78.

Charles' younger sisters, Anna Maria "Nannie" Hanson and Florence Hanson, lived at Belmont until sometime around 1910, when they moved into rented accommodations in Elkridge following the transfer of the property to the Bruce family, relatives of theirs who were also descendants of the Dorseys, the original owners.

Charles, Priscilla, Nannie and Florence, along with their parents, grandparents, and many brothers and sisters, are now laid to rest in the Hanson family burial ground at Belmont.

~

The victim, Mr. Charles Ridgely White

~

POSTSCRIPT

After writing the account above, I noticed something really intriguing while looking again at the 1860 Census. 

It turns out that Charles Ridgely White was not the only Charles White who was acquainted with the family.

According to the 1860 census,  a young teacher from Massachusetts named C. J. White was living at Belmont.   I was able to find a brief biography of a Charles Joyce White from Massachusetts who, after his graduation from Harvard in 1859 at age 20, became a teacher in Maryland.  Odds are very strong that this was the C.J. White who was living at Belmont, employed as a teacher, in 1860.  He later became a Harvard professor in Mathematics who published some of his work.

~

 

Charles Joyce White

from Class of 1859. Harvard College Class of 1859 class album of Henry Weld Fuller. HUD 259.704.3, Harvard University Archives.

Mary was 18 when the 20-year-old White came to live at Belmont.  Three years later, she died from an illness.  Charles Joyce White never married.  He died in 1917 at age 81.

20 years after Mary's death, her brother killed Charles Ridgely White, a neighbor and cousin, at Belmont. 

After committing the murder, Ned Hanson said that his mother had instructed him, when she was dying, that he should kill Charles White.  Her reason, Ned said, was that Charles White had been responsible for the death of Ned's older sister, Mary, who died in 1863 when she was 21 and Ned was just 15.  The next day, confined to jail in Ellicott City, he stated that the spirit of his sister had appeared to him, and warned him to be on guard against Charles White, who would shoot him on sight.

Is there a chance that Ned, if mentally unstable, confused one Charles White with another?  Did something happen between the teacher Charles and Mary in the years before her death that could have caused Ned and/or his mother to hold Charles (the teacher) responsible?

Did Ned believe that he was visited by the ghost of his mother at the time of her death, and that of his sister prior to committing the murder?

What relationship is there, if any, between mental illness and extrasensory experience?

         The driveway through the gates to Belmont.  Photo, J. Nesbitt

A Wedding in Stepney, and Neighbors

This weekend, I found an image of the church registry page which lists the marriage of my 10th great-grandparents, Anthony West and Anne Barlow Huffe, on March 11, 1633. Anthony is the relative who went to Jamestown in his late teens, spending a few years farming tobacco at George Sandys' plantation and working for Mr. Rowley, the barber-surgeon. He returned to England in the late 1620s, where he met and married Anne, returning to Virginia before 1649 with his wife and surviving children.

Today I noticed that just below the entry in the register for Anthony and Anne, there's an entry for a Tilbury Strange (waterman) and Mary Finicombe (widow) who were from the same neighborhood as A & A, and were married on the same day. I wonder if they knew each other? I wonder if they were friends? I wonder if they all went out together to celebrate after their weddings?

I decided to look up Tilbury Strange, on the off-chance that there was something out there about him. Such an unusual name. I found a page on him, and a link to another interesting person...John Taylor, "The Water-Poet", who was his neighbor. John Taylor was also a member of the guild of boatmen licensed to ferry people across the river, a vital service at this time when London Bridge was the only bridge crossing the Thames. Taylor and Tilbury were both members of the royal watermen, serving as leaders of this guild at various times. John Taylor produced more than 150 publications in his lifetime, and although his work was not sophisticated, it provided keen observations of people and pastimes during his lifetime, making it valuable to social historians.----which is why I need to find it and read it, to better understand the life and times of my relative, his neighbor ;-)

Tilbury was born in about 1588, John Taylor in 1578, so they were both considerably older than Anthony. Before Anthony, born in 1605, even left for Virginia, Tilbury and Taylor traveled through Europe together.

From RootsWeb:
'From "The World of John Taylor the Water-Poet, 1578-1653" by Bernard Capp, 1994 (Oxford University Press) ISBN.0198203756, page 24:
"TAYLOR ... left England on 4 August 1620, accompanied by a fellow waterman named TILBURY." They took ship to Rotterdam, went through Amsterdam and Brunswick to Leipzig; TAYLOR's brother joined them. They could find no transport in Leipzig except 'a fellow with a wheel barrow', who transported their 'cloaks, swords, guns, pistols, and other apparel and luggage'. They themselves carried all across the mountains and forests into Bohemia where they were welcomed. To return to England they bought a small boat and navigated 600 miles down the Elbe to Hamburg, then across the channel, arriving in London on 28 October. Footnote: "TILBURY is probably Tilbury STRANGE, a neighbour [of TAYLOR's] and royal waterman, often employed in the Lord Mayor's Pageants: 'A Calendar of Dramatic Records in the Books of the Livery Companies of London 1485-16_0' ed. J. Robertson and D. J. Gordon (Malone Soc. Collection__ iii, 1954)"'

I don't know if either of them ever traveled to Virginia, or if Anthony heard of their travels before he made his own. I don't even know if Anthony lived in Stepney before his voyage to Virginia, or if he really did know these men....but I like to think of the possibility.

Belmont

No matter how early we arrived for work, or how late we left, someone was always there before and after us.  The ladies who cooked breakfast were there before the earliest waitresses, who sometimes arrived when it was still as dark as the middle of the night.  But even they were never the first, since the general manager and a caretaker both lived in houses on the property, within sight of the main house.  In the evenings, the chef always (depending on the chef), stayed until all the wait staff had gone home.  It was the house man who stayed the latest, turning out all of the downstairs lights and locking the doors.

Sometimes, the wait and kitchen staff would be having such a good time with each other that we would sit around in the staff room or outside the back door for awhile after our work was finished.  When the office was located in the main house near the front door, sometimes we would stay to chat with the house man and drink 'leftover wine.'  It was often during these late-night sessions that strange stories would be told, and sometimes, when unusual things would happen, between the front door and the back of the service wing.  In the dining room, especially, things would move.  Silverware, glasses, even food from the tables would slide, fall, disappear or become airborne, usually when there was no one nearby who could possibly be responsible.  Sometimes the strange and unusual events, while eerie, would have a perfectly earthly origin--- like the eerie screaming from the direction of the cemetery, which only meant that a deer had gotten stuck in the fence.  Surrounded by acres and acres of rolling fields, themselves bordered by miles of woodland belonging to the State of Maryland, the spot is an island of quiet, undisturbed nature that often seems outside of the reach of time.

Clover Hill

A 1772 house that sat abandoned, just over the hill from my house, the entire time I was growing up.  I never knew it was there.

PFI May 7, 2011

Kennedy Farmhouse

April 2009

I made a trip out to Frostburg last Thursday for a visit with my daughter, and took advantage of the fact that I was traveling alone by making some fun side trips on the way back. My primary goal was to find the Kennedy Farmhouse, the secluded farmhouse in the shadow of South Mountain, south of Sharpsburg and north of Sandy Hook, where John Brown hid out, stockpiled weapons, and planned his raid on Harper's Ferry during the summer and early fall of 1859. Many winding roads and brown signs later, I finally came upon the historical marker which pointed me to the back of a clearing beside the road where, behind a chain link fence (and, unfortunately, a locked gate) stood the surprisingly small farmhouse. It is hard to believe that at one time during those exciting, secretive months in the life of this building, up to 21 people were hidden in the attic and could only emerge quietly in the dark of night to help unload shipments of arms and equipment and to make plans.



Since I was in the area, I decided to visit Crampton's Gap, the only one of the three 'gaps' involved in the Battle of South Mountain that I had not yet visited. After the war, a large portion of the battlefield at Crampton's Gap was purchased by George Alfred Townsend, a sometime journalist and author of the strange novels Katy of Catoctin and The Entailed Hat, who dubbed himself  "Gath." He covered his part of the mountain with buildings and other structures, including the War Correspondents Arch, which is dedicated to the artists and journalists who were active during the Civil War.


This is the arch as seen from the road coming up from Burkittsville.


A terra-cotta horse's head

Gath has been criticized for having an inflated ego, for obscuring the significance of the battlefield by overlaying it with the many constructions (monuments to himself?) on his estate, and also for leaving off the names of many who should have been named on the Arch, and including many who should not have been. Here is an article on the subject by a Burkittsville writer.

When I arrived at Crampton's Gap last Thursday, it had become overcast and was just beginning to rain. It was a warm day, and the wonderful smell of ozone was in the air. It was late in the afternoon, close to 5:00, and the park office was closed. I was the only person in sight, except for the occasional passing car. It was perfectly quiet except for the sound of the rain and the birds. The mountain pass smelled of 'clean woods.'


Forsythia and wild rhododendron at Crampton's Gap.

If it had been earlier in the day, I would have taken a walk along the ridge on the Appalachian Trail which passes right through the Gap, just behind Gath's mausoleum. Most of the buildings Gath constructed are now gone, some with only the foundations remaining. The strangest is definitely the mausoleum he built for himself, which he never occupied after death...by that time, his fortunes had changed, and for some reason he was buried in a cemetery in Philadelphia instead.


Gath's mausoleum and a nearby stone arch.


Gath's epitaph.


This is part of a strange, roofless enclosure, the size of a small house, with two openings to walk through. It's near the mausoleum, and nobody knows what he built it for. I just think he liked building drystone walls....it is pretty impressive!

On the way back down the mountain, heading west in the path of the Confederate retreat, I passed a huge old stone farmhouse with a very busy dog running around nearby. I stopped and he posed for a picture. I think he is one of the many 'black dogs' who have guarded the passes on South Mountain as long as anyone can remember. Fantastic, magical, and terrifying qualities are reported of these dogs, who go by the collective name of the "Snarly Yow." Whether they are related, all aspects of the same being, or whether they carry the spirits of long-standing guardians of this special place will, for now, remain a mystery.



Before I left for home, I made a quick drive up to Fox's Gap to check my favorite mirror at the site of the Wise Farm. This spot, too, was quiet and deserted, and I took a few more pictures. Maybe next time I'm up there I can pick some apples again...they were small and a little buggy but they made good applesauce :-D

Margaret Hopkins Fitzgerald and the Burning of Hampton

(April 19, 2010)

Today a friend remarked that it saddens him to see boxes of old photos in an antique or thrift store, knowing that the descendants of the people in the photos either no longer have an interest in them, or perhaps don't even know who they were. Names and dates are one kind of knowledge.....but stories are another. I have collected so many names, dates, and locations while learning the history of my family, and I am consumed by curiosity about what they did...what happened to them...what were the big events in their lives? ---as well as small clues about their personality traits. I want to learn things about them and write them down, so these stories and details aren't lost forever just because nobody remembers them. I will never know exactly what these people were like, but I can put together clues from the places and times they lived in and what details I can find. This is an exciting process.

So, last Friday when on a bored and idle whim I decided to search for historical documents about Thomas Fitzgerald (a great-great grandfather whose parentage I hadn't figured out yet), imagine my surprise when I found an article entitled "A Short History of Bascom's Chapel, Eastern Shore Methodism During the Civil War, and the Hopkins/FitzGerald Family Connection." I know. It sounds pretty boring. I'm not at all fascinated by church history, and although I am interested in the Civil War, I didn't think much of anything happened on the Eastern Shore, and it looks like it didn't......other than Federal troops taking over church buildings for barracks, and similar things. No, the exciting part was "the Hopkins/FitzGerald Family Connection", and while I'm not terribly interested in their religious affiliations and loyalties, this article contained an exciting passage about Margaret Hopkins Fitzgerald, Thomas' wife and my grandfather's great-grandmother:

"It was during the winter, late 1861 or early 1862, while the Yankee troops used the churches and schools in Onancock as barracks and set up tent encampments on private property throughout the town, that Margaret Anne Hopkins FitzGerald, an early war widow, slipped through the blockade and arrived with her seven children to live in Onancock. Her eldest son, Nehemiah, was serving with the 2nd Company of Richmond Howitzers. Her brother, John P.L. Hopkins, had sent a schooner to bring her home from wherever she had fled when Hampton, Virginia was burned to the ground (in August, 1861.) She had resided there in Elizabeth City County since her marriage on Christmas Day, 1837 in Onancock.

"With her husband dead, her home burned, and no means of support, Margaret moved to a house provided by her father, Stephen A. Hopkins, who most likely also provided financial support. She took in sewing to add a few pennies to her meager funds. Just a few steps away from her front door at 25 King Street, today known as the Fitzgerald House, was a church building---Bascom's Chapel."

........ I found another article today which stated that Stephen Hopkins (Margaret's father) was one of two men 'authorized' to run ships out of Onancock past the blockade, which must explain why her brother could go and fetch her from Hampton

Bascom's Chapel was formed in the 1840s, when the Methodist Church split over the question of ownership of slaves. Bascom's was the 'pro-slavery' church, from what I can determine. The article goes on to talk about Margaret's involvement and dispute with the chapel in later years.

I did learn several new things in this article--- First of all, that because Margaret is referred to as an "early war widow," Thomas E. Fitzgerald's death (which I have recorded as occuring in 1863, but according to this article he was dead by the beginning of 1862) had something to do with the war, whether he was a soldier or got caught up in the action as a citizen. I'm wondering if it had to do with the occupation or the burning of Hampton. Also, I learned the identity of the Fitzgerald (Nehemiah) who served in the Confederate Army. My dad had told me only that it was 'one of the boys.' After the war, Nehemiah went to California, where he worked as a teacher. He must have had an interesting life. During the course of my bored and idle searching on Friday, I also found the probable parents of Thomas Fitzgerald....wouldn't you know, he is descended from the Onancock Chandlers, into whose family his daughter would then marry. His grandson was Carson Fitzgerald Chandler, the first of three men to have that name. The youngest is my father.

The photo below shows the first Carson Fitzgerald Chandler, Margaret and Thomas' grandson, with his wife Edith Augusta "Gussie" Walsh Chandler and my grandfather, Carson F. Chandler Jr., as a baby. It was taken in about 1915 in Virginia.

The Background of a Lost Family Story

From the Richmond Times Dispatch, August 9, 1861:

The town of Hampton Burnt by the Hessians.
Norfolk. Aug. 8

A large fire was discovered last night about 1 o'clock in the immediate location of Hampton. It continued its flames until about 3 o'clock this morning. The impression here is, that the Federals have burned Hampton. Several prominent houses there were recognized by some of our citizens to have been in flames. From an elevated position, and with the use of glasses, they seem confident that Hampton is in ashes, and the further inference is that the Federals have evacuated that place.
[Second Dispatch]
Norfolk, August 8 1 o'clock P. M. --Burning of Hampton has been confirmed by the statements of several officers who have just reached here from Craney Island. Dense smoke continues to ascend, and the opinion is that the burning still continues.
The flames last night were intense, and the reflection of them on our steeples was plainly visible, although Hampton is about sixteen miles from Norfolk.


The burning of Hampton.
The news of this last crowning act of barbarity seems to be confirmed. The quiet, unoffending old village, which even the British spared in the late war, has been converted into a heap of ashes by the Black Republican invaders. A more wanton, unprovoked and infernal piece of pure diabolism was never committed.

In this life of mysteries, the heart of man clings with fond tenacity to all that has an appearance of permanence and certainly, and therefore about the homestead which he was born in, where he has felt a mother's love and a father's care, where he has played with brothers and sisters, and indulged all the sweetest dreams, joys, hopes, affections and aspirations of humanity, his heart clings as to an anchor that holds it steady and yet buoyant amid all the fluctuations of human affairs. Around the native house every tendril of his heart is entwined, mantling it as the green vine does the wall, and making the dull, inanimate materials fragrant and beautiful. When the dear old homestead is gone, it is an affliction second only to the loss of those whose presence and love have made it dear. And all this the families of Hampton have lost. They were first driven from those homes which they were not able even to defend, and then, after those homes had failed without resistance into the hands of the enemy, who had occupied them at their pleasure, they deliberately, without provocation, gave the town to the flames, an outrage which our British foemen in the war of 1812, even amidst the excitement of actual battle, refrained from perpetrating.

A more exemplary, refined and intelligent community than that of Hampton, was not to be found in Virginia. The cherished virtues of the State, its hospitality, its courtesy, its frankness, its kindness to strangers, shone there with peculiar lustre. And it is such a people who have received such treatment!--Surely, if a just God reigns in Heaven, such crimes as these will not remain unavenged.

Outrages at Hampton.

--The following, from the Fortress Monroe correspondence of the New York Herald, gives further information of the outrages committed by the Hessians at Hampton, previous to burning the town:
‘ The exodus of negroes from Hampton continued all day yesterday, and from the appearance that that unfortunate village presents, very little of value has been left there by these sable itinerants and by the soldiers, who have, I regret to say, committed not a few excesses and acts of violence. They have wantonly destroyed many articles of no earthly use to them, and taken off many others that they have found in the deserted houses that can be of no service to them. The spirit of mischief that sometimes seizes upon men is something that I cannot account for, and one cannot but feel indignant and outraged when he witnesses the ruin that marks the presence of some men. These outrages call for some more stringent-regulations upon the part of the authorities here, if we do not wish to be truly characterized as robbers and vandals. I hope I may never witness other such scenes as it has been my lot to see to-day. Hampton village is now a perfect picture of utter desolation. Even the negroes that in a degree enlivened it when we first occupied it, are fled inside our lines, and there is not a living thing to be seen in all its high ways and by-ways. Take out the straggling soldiers you now and then meet, and Hampton will equal in mournful desolation the buried cities of Italy, could the lava, which has for so many ages buried them from the eye of man, be instantly removed and they allowed to stand in all their beauty before us. The houses are closed, and nothing obstructs the sight on looking up either main avenue by the well built redoubts so recently deserted. Every pig, chicken, horse, cow or other domestic animal has been carried off.
As there are no troops in the village to hold it, and no patrols or scouts beyond it, it is liable at any moment to be scoured by the rebel horsemen, and, if they wish, occupied by them. It is a little too dangerous amusement to linger long through the lonely streets of that village, lost the curious visitor be picked up by one of the Dinwiddie dragoons or some other mounted Virginian — whose acquaintance it would not be pleasant to form. We have taken the precaution to remove about thirty or forty feet of planking on the enemy's side of the bridge, and we now await their movements with confidence in the result, if they should deem it best to make an attack.

Insult to Heaven.

--We see it stated that the heathenish concern, called the Rump Congress, have passed a resolution for the appointment of a committee to request the President to appoint a day of fasting, humiliation and prayer.
A more blasphemous proceeding than this could not well be imagined. It assumes that a just and holy God, who "is of too pure eyes to behold iniquity," and who has declared that he "will by no means clear the guilty." would accept those infinitely false and foul offerings of infinitely depraved and wicked hearts, wrung from the trembling wretches in the hour of their consternation, and accompanied by no remorse or penitences whatever for the monstrous crimes which they have perpetrated.--The idea that Lincoln, with his soul stained with the blood of the hecatombs who were slaughtered at Bethel, Bull Run and Manassas,--with hands red with the murder of those victims of his ruthless lust of power --that He should appoint a day for the observance of such a solemn ceremony as that of "fasting. humiliation and prayer," is impious beyond the power of language to express. That ceremony, if it were to be observed by the authors and prosecutors of this war, would be a gross insult to the A mighty, for it would be an avocation for His assistance in a work instigated only by the devil. To assume or suppose that the "Judge of all the Earth" could be moved by such an appeal from such diabolical wretches to "let the light of (His) countenance shine upon" them, is about one of the most outrageous profanations which human wickedness could prompt. Petersburg Express.
All articles from the following source: http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/ ; The Daily Dispatch: August 9, 1861. Richmond Dispatch. 4 pages. by Cowardin & Hammersley. Richmond. August 9, 1861. microfilm. Ann Arbor, Mi : Proquest. 1 microfilm reel ; 35 mm.

Caves and Goats at Harpers Ferry

This small cave is located in the hillside above Potomac Street and below High Street in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia-- a beautiful, sleepy old town at the junction of the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers. Centuries of peace and quiet have enveloped the town, with the exception of the years before and during the Civil War, when it was the scene of John Brown's attempted takeover of the U.S. Armory and the object of constant contention between the Federal and Confederate Armies.

The photo above is a reminder of two of Harpers Ferry's more eccentric residents. The cave, I am told, is Dr. Brown's Cave, or at least that is the name by which it is currently known. There are stories of a cave located in or near town, yet the identity of which "Brown" used the cave, or if either of the "Browns" actually used this particular cave, remain unclear. "It is said" that there's a cave at Harpers Ferry that John Brown used. Local lore recorded in the papers of Grant Conway tell of a cave near the B&O Railroad tracks where slaves met and plotted to assist John Brown in his insurrection. This cave was said to have had a passage which ended at the basement of the Harper House. A Union soldier named Edward Schilling wrote a letter to his family in March of 1863 where he described a cave found by him and a group of friends while they were foraging for boards. He described long passages and large caverns, some containing water, as well as signs that someone had used the cave before them.

There was an earlier Brown, however, who may have used this cave first and given it its name. In the first decade of the nineteenth century, a former surgeon in the American Revolutionary Army, a native of Scotland, took up residence in Harpers Ferry. This Dr. Brown was a bachelor and was well enough off that he could afford to be eccentric and risk the disapproval of local society. One of the manifestations of his uniqueness was his great love of dogs and cats. It is said that in his strolls through this tiny town, Dr. Brown was sometimes accompanied by as many as 50 dogs. He used, as his storehouse and pharmacy, "a cave, partly natural and partly artificial." Dr. Brown's residence was on the south side of High Street, just above the cave in the photo above. When I looked into this cave, it appeared to be just a small chamber. Could there have been a passage in a corner that I overlooked, which may have led to more openings and passageways beneath the town? Maybe the natural portions of the cave have been closed off....or maybe they just remain hidden from the casual visitor. Then again, maybe this little chamber is just a conveniently visible feature useful for ghost tours and historical interpretations, something accessible that can be attached to the colorful legends of this town.

The most interesting thing about the cave I found to be the painting of a goat on the rear wall, facing the entrance. This made more sense, however, when I later came upon the story of a man who, shortly after the Civil War, lived across the Potomac River from Harpers Ferry and kept a herd of goats. Some of these goats got into the habit of climbing the steep cliffs of Maryland Heights, and became more and more wild as the years went on. In 1890, the herd was thought to number about a hundred, and goats could clearly be seen on most days by people on the train platform at Harpers Ferry, scrambling among the rocks in the inaccessible areas of the Heights above the river. The rocky hillside on which the feral goats loved to roam faced the opening of my goat cave, on the opposite side of the Potomac River. The goats remained and in 1980, there were still 28 wild goats roaming the cliffs. At one point following this, residents began to notice the absence of the once familiar goats, and still no one knows what happened to them. Harpers Ferry Park historian Kevin Frye has a theory, though....He believes that one cold winter night, the goats took shelter in the railroad tunnel and were killed by a freight train.

~~~

View of Maryland Heights and the railroad tunnel from the hillside near the Catholic Church in Harpers Ferry